Stargate Atlantis/Medium - The Castle on the Sea -- Chapter 4 [5/8]
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Epilogue
CHAPTER 4 - FIELD INVESTIGATION
Detective Lee Scanlon parked his car in the District Attorney’s office ten minutes late. A secretary had called his home, unable to find his cell number, which was insane considering the amount of time he spent there, and the amount of calls the DA’s office sent him daily. He figured she was a temp or some rich girl whose daddy had pulled strings to get her the job. Never mind! Now that he had come, he would better go evaluate the importance of the event, if that could calm down his temper, it would be favorable to him and the unknown people who had required him to come as soon as possible. “It’s an emergency,” Line had said over lunch, cradling their newborn baby girl in her arms. He did not like having to cut his lunch break, even more so when he was with his family. He smiled at the word family, above all people who would have bet a dime on him, the solitary type, the ex-drug addict, starting a family some day.
The elevator was three stories above. He watched as people gathered around the shaft like a mass of swarming insects and swooped down inside leaving him aside as the doors slid close right before his nose. He shook his head in disbelief; this was just one of these days! The stairwell waited for him with open arms. His pace slackened when he reached the third floor, reminding him he was not in the prime of youth anymore.
He had never seen such effervescence in the D.A.’s office. He first thought of some big shot being arrested while having a go at it in the back of a car with someone he should not have been with, a working girl or an underage girl, or maybe an underage working girl. Lee used to find this pathetic but fun to a certain extent, the fine excuses and the scare of being exposed led these men to invent creative scenarios to cover their names. He could not understand the fun anymore, only remained the pity and anger, which he had to control. Fatherhood had changed him more than he had ever thought possible, and baby Lee was so innocent, not to mention pretty, her arrival had made him see the wrongdoings of men under a different light. The duality of humankind, good and evil with nothing in between, subsisted -not that he had ever been a big believer in redemption, but he had to judge accountability possible, to trust people’s aptitude to change or else it would render him powerless and he would need to give up that life for a new one, sheltered from evil.
Devalos saw him entering-the advantage of having a glassed-in office-and pointed at the conference room, which led Lee to believe he was not so late after all. Hands in his pocket, wearing his usual appearance of nonchalance, he went to his friend’s encounter.
Devalos scratched his moustache, a sign of anxiety or uneasiness, which Lee had never noticed him do before. “Thank God you’re here, Lee. What took you so long?”
“Just strolling around the neighborhood, greeting strangers, why?”
“Then, you’re a lucky guy! I happen to have two strangers here, waiting for your greetings. They have questions about Allison, and apparently they’re running on a clock.”
“What? Reporters again?”
“No, not at all. Military. Air force to be accurate.”
Incredulous for a second, Lee did not know what to think. They had tried once to collaborate with the FBI, but it did not turn out so great, with the agent dying and then using Allison and him to take revenge on his murderer from the beyond. Lee knew Allison had become a local celebrity, which had brought her and her family more problems than anything else. The air force asking after her! She was full of surprises.
Behind the door, an athletic man in his late thirties early forties, who introduced himself as Major something, shook his hand vigorously and diplomatically. Lee was not paying much attention to him, distracted by the black woman accompanying him, late thirties, fine silhouette, vivid eyes, feral grin…. Line would kill him if she knew he was checking other women. He smiled inwardly at the prospect. He shook the idea away, and tried to focus back on the conversation. Major Lorne, as Lee read on his tag, was asking Devalos questions about Allison and her relatives.
“What happened exactly?” Lorne was asking Manuel, taking notes.
“A reporter P.D. McCall exposed Mrs. Dubois as a psychic while she was trying to save her life. She knew she would be a victim and it turned out she was right,” he explained. “Detective Scanlon would be in a better position to tell you about the case since the revelation about Allison’s gift cost me my job, the city feeling the obligation to reopen all the cases on which she had helped. Fortunately, I managed to get reelected afterwards, and I didn’t wait to ask Allison to resume our collaboration, which she gladly accepted.”
“I see.”
“Have you ever doubted Mrs. Dubois’ gift?” the woman asked.
“I did at first. With time, I learned to trust Allison, and now I proudly call her a dear friend.”
“But still doesn’t it seem strange to you? I mean, she comes knocking at the door claiming she has crazy dreams, and you instantly believe her and offer her a job, just like that?”
Lee detested the insinuation permeating the Major’s voice. Granted, he was playing devil’s advocate, but you would imagine that after five years of knowing one another, Manuel, Lee and Allison had become more than colleagues, and whatever bond defined their relationship, trust was a fundamental ingredient to the solidity of what they shared. He could show Devalos’s judgment a little more respect.
“Mrs. Dubois was hired as part-time legal assistant within the framework of an internship she was undertaking at the local college.” Devalos said, and Scanlon distinguished undertones of exasperation in his voice, though well hidden.
“What about you Detective?” Teyla said. He had overheard the Major pronounced her name, and it suited her perfectly, a match made in heaven, as exotic and special a name as she seemed a woman.
“Well, I was skeptic at first. I learned to trust her. I’m her personal 911, now. Open 24/7.”
“What made you change your mind?” Lorne asked.
“She helped me on a complicated case.”
“Wanna tell us more?”
Lee tensed in his seat, and Devalos sent him a nod to encourage him. “Five years ago. Three couples killed on their first wedding anniversary. Report stated same method: a murder and a suicide. Too much of a coincidence for me. No one corroborated my theory. Mrs. Dubois put the pieces together and solved the three crimes in less than a week, proving me right.”
“So you owed her one.” Lorne said.
“It’s more than that.” Lee lowered his eyes, the conditioned reflex of the macho man: fight tears or hide them. “The first victims were my sister and her husband. Allison knew everything even that they were going to be parents.”
When he looked up again, won over by emotions, no one dared stifle his pain, Teyla rested her hand on his, warm and reassuring, and he closed his eyes, unable to conjure up any other gesture, not even a smile.
“Has Allison ever shown strange behaviors, suffered lapses of memory?”
Reminiscing some of the strangest situation he had witnessed over the past few years, Scanlon could not believe all the tribulations the Dubois had endured, enough to complete five season of a prime time show on a national network. “It happened and more than once,” he acknowledged. “You should talk to her husband, Joe. Do you know about the girls?”
Somehow, the information had passed without reaching them. They seemed to ignore the genetic lottery had struck three times.
“Listen,” Devalos said, “I don’t know the real reason of your visit, but as both a colleague and a friend, I can tell you this: Allison is a great person, a hero even. She put her own life in jeopardy to save her family. If your intentions are good, I recommend you contact her, she would do anything in her power to help; however, if your intentions are malicious then I suggest you leave my office. I will not let you drag that poor woman’s name in the mud again, not especially now she is resting after a complicated surgical procedure. ”
Scanlon saw their visitors exchange another look, the sixth or seventh maybe, as if they communicated with eye movements or telepathy. Their guests proceeded to leave their company, pack up and go back to the top-secret mission that, he assumed, involved Allison, since they had both signed confidentiality agreements before receiving the authorization to step foot in the room.
Out of good manner or interest, Scanlon ushered them outside. “I hope you found what you came here looking for.”
“I believe we did,” Teyla calmly said, “you are very protective of her. As though she were family.”
This time it was Manuel and Lee’s turn to exchange a look, and according to Teyla’s smile, she had perceived its meaning. Allison was.
*
Mr. Woolsey was in office, forehead creased in deep thoughts, when Ronon knocked at the door. The commander almost lost his balance startled by the unexpected visitor. “Ronon! What are you doing here?”
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Please,” he said beckoning him to the seat in front of his, which Ronon declined.
He had spent enough time stuck in bed against his will, even if it was for his own good. He had suffered injuries, some rather serious while on the run, and never had he taken time to rest, it had helped built his strength, and push back the limits of his endurance.
“I’m surprised Doctor Keller released you so quickly,” Woolsey added.
To be honest, he did not leave her a choice, pestering her every five minutes to ask her how much longer he would have to stay in the infirmary. He knew it was just a matter of time before she would relent, she always did, and Sheppard was not around anymore to act as a mediator. She admonished him and made him promise to come back to a doctor or a nurse in case of symptoms: dizziness, blurry vision, tiredness. He knew the drill. “I convinced her,” he said.
Woolsey understood the implicit signification of these words. “So, how can I help?”
“Where’s everyone?” Ronon asked.
“Colonel Sheppard, Doctor McKay and Teyla accompanied by Major Lorne are currently trying to clarify Mrs. Dubois allegations. Don’t worry they will be back soon. I’ll have you know when they arrive. In the meantime, why don’t you see to getting some rest?”
Ronon stopped the pacing he had started, and glowered at Woolsey.
“Fair enough.”
“So,” Ronon asked, “can I go talk to Allison?”
“You mean go interrogate the prisoner?”
“Yeah, right the prisoner.” Ronon’s mouth and eyebrows twitched a little.
“What?”
“It’s just… Allison's her name, right?”
“Yes.”
“So why can’t we call her that?”
“Because she is in custody until further notice; and we are a civilized people, Ronon. Besides, the Geneva convention-”
“You called Michael and Todd by their names.”
That remark reduced Mister Woolsey to silence. “Please go talk to Mrs. Dubois. She’s in the isolation room.” Ronon sent him another glare, but Woolsey did not fear those as much as he used to, that trick had become obsolete, he nevertheless countered, “I thought it was more civil than the cells.”
Ronon shrugged and left in long strides. When he reached the isolation room, an overzealous marine, who was guarding the door, blocked his way. “Sorry, Sir, no one comes in.”
“Richard Woolsey said I could.”
The marine backed down and opened the door, whispering an apology Ronon missed.
Allison sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped and hair wet from the too many tears she had cried. He noticed she was shivering. Enveloping her in the blanket she had thrown away in frustration disclosed his presence. Their eyes met. The blueness in hers had gone, only remained the grayness of worry and pain- and her eyes, shockingly similar to Rodney’s in the early stage of second childhood, reminded him of how his friend, unable to fight the disease, after a cascade of emotions ranging from anger to frustration to simple sadness, had surrendered to his impending fate, the obligation of accepting the unacceptable. He understood, now. She was not to blame, whatever circumstances had brought her here, his instinct screamed she was here for something else, something of importance.
“Hey, do you remember me?” He was relieved when she murmured his name, and he hesitated to come closer, to touch her. “You’ll be fine, I promise.” He froze when he felt the pressure of her head on his shoulder, her silky hair on his skin. Her faith in him brought back memories of years past; comforting Camrys after the Last Ceremony, promising no one would ever part them, not even the Wraiths. Ten years later, he was on his own with the image of his little sister in his mind, the weight of her end on his heart, and the visceral yearning to extinguish the Wraiths who took away her life, their parents and Melena’s, and seven of his years for execrable schemes.
Her fingers gripped his hand. “I’m sorry about your wife, and the child she carried,” she whispered. Like at fault, or aware of the impropriety of the gesture- he understood the ring on her finger meant she belonged to someone-she slipped out of his arms, smiled a faint apology, and slid back under the bed covers.
Not allowing himself to open that particular memory, he rejected the complex emotions that he felt crawling back in his mind. What good would it do to him? Why reopen painful wounds? She had just given him one more reason to trust her, a proof that her intentions were honorable.
“I miss my daughter.”
“They will find her. They said they’d call Amber Alert, she might help.”
Allison sent him one of those strange looks people of Earth sent him sometimes and swallowed down a little laugh. “It’s a procedure for child abductions. You’re not from here, are you?”
“Sounds so obvious?”
“No, it’s just a feeling I have. Your home, it’s far away, very far away.”
Light years and light years away, even. McKay would know exactly how many, not that it mattered. “Sounds like a good description.”
“Tell me more about it. What’s it like?”
Was it necessary to tell her hostile and starving aliens had destroyed it? “It’s not very different from here.”
She seemed disappointed. He could not tell what she expected, but if she needed a distraction, they were at the right address. “Feel like taking a walk?”
“Can I?”
He dragged her out of bed, and opened the door, the two marines flabbergasted at the sight displaying before their eyes; they probably were thinking he was eloping with the prisoner. He ignored their warnings and threats to call their superior. He didn’t mind: it was worth the risk.
“Are you sure about this?” Allison asked him, after a last glance at the two little dots that used to watch her every move. “Don’t put yourself in troubles for me.”
“Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”
Filled with wonder and short for words, she contemplated the intricate architecture of the city, the longest corridors she had ever seen and covered, stopping ever once and again to admire the view. The Golden Gate Bridge one of America’s most famous architectural splendor, as John had explained Ronon and Teyla once, looked nothing compared to Atlantis, whose panache outshined all ever-built monuments without a contest.
Finally, they reached their destination.
“Where are we?” Allison asked him.
“Somewhere safe.”
“Not the place. The room.”
“Teyla comes here to meditate. I figured it might help you remember.”
“It’s worth a try.” She settled on the mat on the floor, imitating Ronon’s posture, crossed-leg, palms on knees, but instead of finding peace inside, she found hilarity.
He arched an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”
“You don’t seem a yoga type of person, that’s all.”
He stood up, stretching his legs as if they were made of elastic. “You’re right!”
She tried to focus back and concentrate.
“Relax, and try to remember.”
Her breathing reminded him of the rhythmic back and forth of the waves on the piers, soft and steady, unstoppable. Anxiety and fear did not belong here, only remained the determination of a mother willing to do anything for her child. Then confidence and certainty reopened her eyes. “Ronon, I think I know where she is.”
*
It was no secret that Rodney was not a children person. Despite using considerable resources to convince Woolsey and then Sheppard to let him off the hook, and send someone else meet the Dubois, Rodney was walking in the alleyway to the pink-stoned house, in a typical suburban neighborhood of an American metropolitan area. The black metallic car with tinted windows waited on the sidewalk under the hotness of the dangerous rays of the afternoon sun. With a little luck, the house would be equipped with air conditioning and would contain liters of fresh beverages to stop the ongoing process of dehydration he could feel weakening his body, his mouth and lips so dry and rough. Whoever had set those stupid protocols that required him to wear a suit and tie in that kind of mission had obviously never been on one. At least, he wasn’t cramped into a dark navy blue military suit, heavy with medals, carrying along one of those ridiculous caps, God forbid they ever wear.
Finally, they reached the shaded threshold and Sheppard rang the bell twice. It occurred to Rodney that, to this family, two men in darks suits descending from a federal vehicle might be a sign of bad omen. On the other hand, if he remembered the file correctly, the brother had chosen to quit this particular career. A svelte man in his early forties, with semi-long blond hair answered the door, a hand in the pocket of his black jeans, sunglasses clipped to the pocket of his gray-blue t-shirt, which Rodney recognize as having a specimen in his wardrobe.
“Mister Joseph Dubois?” Sheppard inquired.
“Yes?”
“I’m Colonel John Sheppard with the United States Air Force. This is Doctor Rodney McKay. We’d like to have a word with you, if that’s all right.”
The man looked visibly baffled, and no one could blame him for that. “Okay. What’s it about?”
“Your wife, actually.”
“Rodney!”
“Well, in that case I’m not sure I can help, Allison’s not here, she’s taken a few days off. She’s currently in California visiting her brother.”
“Still, may we come in please, sir? It won’t take long, you have my word.”
“Okay, well, suit yourself, then.”
They followed the man in a small straight corridor to a colorful living room-a children drawings’ museum, printed papers plastered all over the place, mostly on the fridge and cupboard doors. They walked past two blond and blue-eyed teenage girls, the youngest smiling out of curiosity, the eldest, less enthusiastic, more on her guard.
“I’m sorry,” Joe asked Rodney. “Did you say Doctor Rodney McKay?”
“Yes, yes, why?”
“Have you ever published in the field of physics?”
Rodney smiled and sent him a small nod.
“Then, I believe I’ve read a couple of papers from you in the past, brilliant theories, really. Why did you stop publishing? You had a mapped out future in physics -”
Finally, his first fan! If it had to be a father of three, living in suburbia, so be it, although he would have favored a luminary sitting on the United Nations or at the UNESCO, someone moving in intellectual circles. Really, he was starting to like the man, even more when he offered him a tall glass of cool homemade ice tea, which he absorbed as the gate did power.
“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re here for a reason, and -” Sheppard reminded them.
“Yes, my mistake.”
“Like Rodney said, the reason bringing us here to Phoenix is your wife, Allison.”
“It must be a matter of great importance for you to come over here yourself. I imagine they have phones in the military, or if anything, less important people to send.”
The smile that spread on Rodney’s lips did not contradict him. He knew better than to judge people on the first impression, but his liking of the man shifted into appreciation. Someone like that could be a valuable asset in his science team in Atlantis. He would have to check his resume, his dealing with figures of authority and his opinion on working without gaining credit for his inventions.
“You said your wife was in vacation. You’re sure about that?” Sheppard asked.
“Of course, I am. With all due respect, Sir, I think I know Allison better than you do. We’ve been together nineteen years, married seventeen.”
“Well, this might seem strange to you, but last night, your wife broke into a top secret guarded facility in California.”
“A top secret guarded facility?”
“See. It isn’t so much the breaking into part or the guarded facility part as the top secret part, our little problem.”
“Dad,” the eldest of the girls said from behind them. She approached her father at the table, her little sister in toe.
“What is it Ariel?”
“Is it about Mom? She isn’t with Uncle Michael, is she?”
“What makes you think that Ariel?” her father said, strangely unfazed.
“Well, I’ve been seeing her, in this sort of big castle floating on the sea.”
Had Rodney been drinking, he would have choked and sprayed ice tea all around him. He turned and noticed the same bewilderment he was feeling etched on Sheppard’s face. “Castle on the sea, uh?” He repeated. “Talk about a vivid imagination!”
“You mean Atlantis.” All eyes darted on the younger girl. “I saw it, too. It’s beautiful.”
“Bridge, what are you talking about?”
She answered her father with an evasive shrug as if to put across she did not know more.
“Okay. What’s going on here?” Sheppard demanded, staring hard at Joe with renewed suspicion. “Last time I checked your daughters weren’t on the security clearance list. How do they know classify Intel?”
“We dreamt it!” The girls claimed in unison.
“They dreamt it, of course!” McKay reiterated, rolling his eyes.
“So I see it’s a family thing!” Sheppard paused, slowly taking in that new information. “Any dreams on where your little sister might be by any chance, girls?”
They responded by the negative, the oldest shaking her head, the other looking down then glancing worriedly at her father.
“Well, that was worth a shot!”
Rodney witnessed a perfect example of teenage sisterly affection, when sixteen-year-old Ariel took control of the situation, leading her sister away from the adults to have a private conversation. He remembered the year the site stated she was born, and did the math, a simple subtraction a reflex for the genius that he was.
“You should call Uncle Michael,” she advised her father, reaching for the handset with the hand that was not encircling her sister’s shoulder. “I’m sure he and Marie are having ice cream or cotton candy as we speak.”
What an iron will she must have to show no emotions for such a young person-the strength eldest would gather to protect the youngest! They left them alone, retreating in the land of recreation and imagination, the territory of innocence.
Who could stand being ignored? Certainly not Rodney and neither Mr. Dubois given the annoyed gesture with which he had hung up the phone and the added bonus of angry words they could not decipher, pronounced beneath his breath.
“Maybe he’s taken her to the cinema or the amusement park. We’ll find her.” Sheppard meant to be reassuring, Rodney knew that, but making empty promises might backfire. On the other hand, he was not the poster child for optimism, more like the opposite, actually; it was more about giving the man hope than anything else. “Unless… Do you have reasons to believe he could-”
“No, never. I might have had issues with him in the past, but he loves the girls, he wouldn’t hurt them.” Hunched over the table, elbows pressed on its wooden surface, the man rubbed his forehead as if trying to erase the lines of worry the new development had brought along, the frenetic finger combing of his hair might be natural though the uncanny situation had surely amplified it. “Did you talk to Allison? Did she seem in her right mind to you?” he asked them.
“What do you mean by that exactly?” Sheppard asked. “Lost, confused-”
“And hysterical when she realized your daughter was missing.” Rodney’s comment earned him a scowl for tactlessness.
“Aside from your brother-in-law, do you know anyone else in the area likely to babysit for her? People she’d trust enough to take care of your daughter for a few hours?”
“No, I don’t. She’d never do that without discussing it with me first.” He heaved a sigh that cast a chill over the atmosphere. “Wait, a second, Allison mentioned a couple she befriended, and gave me their name and phone number, I write it down.” He sprung out of his chair, and started shuffling papers on the desk, then on the counter where sit the receiver. A cell phone ringing diverted Rodney’s attention to where the sound came from, Sheppard’s hand. He mouthed Woolsey to Rodney and excused himself, stepping out in the garden by the sliding glass doors of the kitchen. Rodney felt excluded. The phone call lasted three minutes forty-four seconds, Rodney had nothing else to do than count, he thought about helping find the paper, but he wouldn’t like people searching in his files even with an authorization.
John came back in, pocketing his phone in his vest. “They have a hunch as to who might have the child.”
“So who is it,” Rodney asked, wanting nothing but to break the unnecessary suspense.
Just as Joe laid his hands on the much sought-after piece of paper, John answered the name, which Joe pronounced with one or two seconds of interval, making it all sound like an echo. “Jeannie Miller.”
“What the-” his strength had left Rodney, before he could finish his sentence. Sheppard slapped him in the back, making him jump in fright. “Hey! What was that for?”
“Get a grip, McKay!”
He dialed the number as fast as he could on John’s cell, apprehension increasing with every new tone, when finally he heard the singsong voice of his sister.
“Mer? Hey, Hi! So you’re back! Since when and… for how long? Why are you calling me? To bitch at me over the phone? It worked effectively on emails.”
“Jeannie! Listen, I don’t have time to explain, but have you met a woman named Allison Dubois in the last few days?”
“Yeah, why? How do you know that? Oh, no… did something happen to her?”
“No, well… yeah, well… sort of. As I said, I don’t have time for that. Did you see her daughter Marie, too?”
“Yes, sure I saw her. I’m even seeing her right now playing with Maddie.”
“She’s with you?!” His relief might have shown on his face, since he saw John and Joe’s faces recover their serenity.
“Mer? What’s going on?” Jeannie was asking over the line.
“Pack up. Someone’s gonna pick you up. See you later in Atl- in… in the castle on the sea.” He shut the communication and gave back the phone to Sheppard who was looking at him funny. “What is it?”
“She knows how it’s called; she’s been there a few times.”
“Yeah, but with what happened to her because of me, I’d rather be extra cautious, that’s all.”
“No need to. It’s a secured line.”
Rodney felt his face turn red a little. “How was I supposed to know that?”
They turned back their focus on their host who was still enjoying the warm feeling of liberation to know both his wife and daughter were unharmed.
“Sir, you and your kids need to come with us go back to Allison and Marie.”
“Where exactly are we going?” He asked them.
“Ask your daughters. They have a pretty good description of the place.”
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Epilogue